


Shanghai Grande

by fallacyofwhat



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 1930s, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 1930s, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst, China, Chinese Triads, Drug Abuse, Dubious Consent, Gangsters, Historical Inaccuracy, Human Trafficking, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Murder, Physical Abuse, Power Dynamics, Sexual Abuse, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-03-20 20:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18999553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallacyofwhat/pseuds/fallacyofwhat
Summary: Minseok, or Min Shuo like the Chinese call him, hates living in Shanghai and if his life wasn't shit already he has to cross paths with Shanghai's most dangerous man.Shanghai Grande is on hold until further notice because it will undergo heavy changes in the further chapters and slight changes in the previously uploaded chapters. Please anticipate an even better product. Sorry to everyone waiting for a new chapter.Tags will be added as the story progresses.





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to beta I and emotional support C, as well as K. Love you, guys <3  
> Chinese terms are explained at the beginning of the blog, and since I’m not a native speaker of Chinese, I stick to Mandarin translations, even though they spoke Shanghainese during that time, a form of the Wu dialect.
> 
> I also ignore the Second Sido-Japanese War that began in July 1937 in favour of the story.
> 
> Money-wise, I use the equivalent of the 1935 yuan. Calculations: ¥150 (1935) ≈ $54 (1935), compared to 2015, US $50 would be around US $724 nowadays.  
> In short, the story plays in the 1930s without being specified which year.
> 
> ㅤㅤTranslations:  
> pīntou - lover, mistress, paramour  
> Xuè Lóng - Blood Dragons
> 
> Cursive direct speech indicates the characters talking in Chinese, normal font indicates Korean, usually.

#  _ Scene I _

He knew better than to disobey people, to raise hands to shield his face when receiving his beating, to utter a single sound of hurt. But that day he didn’t do anything, it was just because of his mere existence. He fulfilled his quota for the day and even provided the gang with useful pieces of information, but he was beaten up nonetheless. Fortunately, the swelling around his eye already got better and he was only left with an ugly darkish purple bruise, accentuating his cheekbone. He pulled his cap further down into his face and kept his gaze glued to the pavement. He tightly grasped the work utensils he kept in an old leather satchel to his chest, since he purchased new polish the day before.

He hustled into another person and bowed multiple time, sputtering apologies in every language he could apologise in and bracing himself for another beating. He started shaking violently since he knew his body couldn’t take another one, every step already hurt like hell, and handling another beating was out of question in such a short amount of time. His muscles were already stiff and his back felt like it broke in a thousand pieces, grown back together but incorrectly. Not just physically, but mentally, he tried preparing himself, but it was futile. Despite his predictions, nothing of these sorts happened.

It felt like an eternity before he felt a pat on his head and he heard the stranger rounding him and walking away. Only after, he finally managed to pry his eyes open. Minseok just stood still until a jolt ran through his body and he whipped out his pocket watch from his breast pocket, just to realise he only had a couple of minutes left before he would definitely lose his spot across the tailor in the alleyway. The pocket watch was the only thing he had left after he was forced to leave Korea. The only thing left of his grandfather.

 

He’s been in China for around seven years now, turned 21 a few months ago, but he still struggled with the language. Spending the little money he gained and that was left with him, he managed to buy books to learn some Chinese and food that barely got him through the day. The weird old man's basement he lived in robbed him of enough money already. Although weird may be the wrong description to use regarding the man. 

_ Insanity _ .

Insane like the men he saw in opium dens that were imprisoned by it, by the addiction and the apathy. Insane like the man he used to call father. The man he refused to call that, his begetter, the man that was the reason he was here in the first place. Insane like the people he was stuck with and that made his sad life a living hell.

 

For someone who was drilled to be clean, involuntarily living in the basement was nothing short of torture. It was dirty, wet, the water out of the tab tasted rusty. A single, naked, barely lit light bulb only illuminated enough of the room so Minseok could regard his ghost-like appearance in the cracked mirror when he got up. Rats running around at night. A mouldy, steep and creaky staircase. He has been plagued with insomnia all these years, and was always ill to some extent. He wondered how he was still able to live, his will to end his misery long broken.

 

He arrived at his usual spot near the tailor and sat down on his stool, staring at the seat before him. He made it his policy and work ethic to not talk to his customers or look into their eyes. He learned it the hard way. He only had to wait until the first customers arrived, three seats being available next to each other as waiting area, so Minseok could polish the shoes at the same time. The seats belonged to the gang that bought him, but that wasn't helping him at all. He understood Chinese fairly well, but he still lacked somewhat in the department of writing, reading being an entirely different subject. But he just played the foreigner who couldn’t speak Chinese and that way he received information that was valuable enough to save his life. He gave up running away years ago, no-one would wait for him in Korea anyway. He was ripped out of a familiar setting that was already the most disgusting thing and was thrown into an unfamiliar but just as disgusting one. People in this part barely spoke with one another and if just in hushed voices, too great the fear.

 

After his third customer, he rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing another row of burns and bruises along his arms, but it was just too warm not to. His eyes flitted over his skin that was quite tanned since he worked so much outside and he had somewhat of an everlasting sunburn on the bridge of his nose and the high cheekbones. He rummaged in his pockets until he found a poorly rolled cigarette, too thick and with excess tobacco that hasn’t been removed. Puckering his lips with the stick in between, he tried to lighten a match, but the piece of wood refused to cooperate and its head broke off. It seemed like he had to buy a new box of matches when he changed locations later on. Willed to give up, he huffed out a noise of irritation and his eyebrows furrowed together dangerously close. He didn’t realise that someone was sitting on the chair before him, until two large hands with a couple of gold rings appeared in his line of vision, shielding a lit match. Minseok’s whole body shook, he didn’t hear the creaking of the chair when the man was sitting down or anything else. Right in front of him. His body moved automatically, tilting his head to the side so his long fringe wouldn’t get in the way, exposing a large blooming bruise at the same time. The crackling of the dry tobacco invaded his ears and his lungs embraced the toxic air. Releasing a cloud of smoke through his nostrils, he tilted his head back into its original position. With the cigarette between his fingers, he regarded the shoes for the first time and he was astounded like nobody’s business.

 

It was a pair of wingtip shoes, nothing too unusual, but they were made out of soft, reddish-brown leather, not a speck of dust, but according to the wrinkles and stretch marks they were worn pretty often. Minseok, already in work mode, placed the cigarette between his lips and inspected the shoes with greatest interest, reaching for the shoe of the leg overthrown on the other one, he tilted the sole towards himself and ran a finger alongside the seam. Pushing his cap back, he tried to see more. They were recently resoled. It was an unusual pair of shoes for this district of Shanghai, most of the people still wearing traditional clothes, and to top it off, those shoes didn’t seem to have been made in China at all, the seaming and the decorations too specific. Minseok couldn’t recognise the branding at all. And still not a single speck of dust either. A foreigner? They weren’t unusual in Shanghai, but still.

 

“ _How much for you_?”

Minseok looked up in shock, eyes wide, a churning and tingling sensation in his stomach ever since he saw the shoes. He blinked a couple of times, creating the illusion of him not understanding, except he did. But not sure in which sense he should have understood it. ‘How much’ in which case? His work? Information? His body? He could never be too sure. He was met with the sight of a cold and grim looking pair of eyes, the lips set in a tight line. The man’s eyes flickered over his face and over his eyes, before captivating Minseok’s again.

The man’s hair was parted and gelled to the sides. The jacket of his three-piece suit was dropped off on the seat beside him, same as the hat. The suit was coffee coloured -it appeased Minseok in a second-, the five-button novelty collared vest was paired with a cream coloured tie and apparently the vest buttons were replaced by gold ones by their owner. The emerald shirt underneath seemed to be either linen or cotton, it emphasised the man’s lightly sun-kissed skin, and the English trousers complimented the length of his legs, at least in Minseok’s eyes. The sleeves of the dress shirt were rolled up, one of the things Minseok found undeniably sexy, and the way the muscles flexed and the veins disappeared and reappeared when the man crossed his arms over his chest.

 

As if his sexual orientation wasn’t already enough of a struggle. Some gang members used him for sexual relieve against his will and without being aware of his preferences. Would that be known… he’d already been a dead man by now. Fortunately, that didn’t happen in years.

 

“ _They beat your face now?_ ” the man asked with such a concern in his voice and his touch was so gentle, so contrary to the man’s looks when he reached out and cupped the side of Minseok’s face. He jerked back, not uttering a single word or sound, Minseok was on the verge of unconsciousness, he was star-struck. He wasn’t even able to comprehend the man’s words. His voice was deep and soothing to his nerves, but his face was freaking him out. Oozing inhospitality and death, too flawless for these parts of the town, his hands too strong, reeking of blood. He didn’t get far since the man’s grip suddenly turned fairly strong on his jaw, too strong, domineering, keeping him in close range to the man. He winced in pain when the stranger dragged his thumb over the bruise. Saving his cigarette from falling, he took hold of it and turned his face away in pain, his other hand shooting up and taking hold of the man’s wrist.

 

“ _Sorry, didn’t mean to hurt you,_ ” the deep voice flooded his ears and he couldn’t help himself, but stare up in amazement. He felt so unbelievable dirty in front of the man, he let go off his hand in a second. His too big light blue dress shirt, the old and ragged five-button vest that was somewhere between warm grey and cold grey, depending on the time of the day, his darkish grey, almost black knickers, that couldn’t match the grey of his vest at all. He averted his eyes and pulled his cap back into his face and further down.

 

“Minseok, are you coming over for lunch?” suddenly someone called out in Korean, it was the tailor from next door. Minseok whipped his head around and saw the man looking shocked at him before nodding when he remembered something, or more specifically, someone. “Korean, I see,” the deep voice unanticipatedly breathed out in Korean and a daunting smile appeared on his lips before it turned into the apathetic expression again. Minseok couldn’t help himself but remain frozen. He felt a pull on his chin before he was forced to look at the man again who put something in his pocket and stood up, “ _Minseok_.” The way his name rolled off the stranger’s tongue sounded dangerous. The man wasn’t testing out his name, he was claiming it.

 

Seconds after the man left, Minseok felt the tailor by his side, who was stabilising him when he got up. He was shaking like a leaf in the wind and his airflow was short and fast. He was guided into the shop and the old man made him sit down.

 

“Mr Jung…” Minseok’s voice broke painfully.

“Kim, you have no idea who talked to you, do you?” the tailor sounded like he had the shock of his life that Minseok actually had. He shook his head, everything was still in a blur for him. “That’s even worse, you’re involuntarily under the wing of the _Xuè Lóng_ syndicate and now you probably attracted the most dangerous man’s attention in all of Shanghai and probably even the South, maybe even China as a whole.” The old man looked equally furious and concerned.

 

Minseok snapped out of it, “What do you mean?” He got his gears running in his head, tried to remember the slightest bit of information he could have heard or read. He thought about every little thing he could come up with, just because he couldn’t write didn't mean that he was unable to read, his head was drilled to remember anything as useless as it could be. The man was familiar, he saw his face before, but the face was missing a name and he didn’t know why. Mr Jung shuffled around the store and came back with a folded newspaper, on the front page the man Minseok met earlier:

_ Wu Yi Fan. _

It was about an allegation against Wu, the possible involvement of Wu about the assassination of a high-ranking official that talked openly about an opium ban and shut-down of Shanghai’s opium dens. The name rang a bell, and so did the face. Suddenly, a wave of gruesome information collapsed over him, threatening to drown him. The photo showed him smiling, but the smile didn’t even reach the corners of his lips and his eyes were so cold, Minseok felt his blood freezing in the veins for the third time that day and cold sweat appeared on his forehead. “Kim, don’t pass out on me!”

“Is it bad?” Minseok turned his face upwards to meet the tailor's eyes, he knew he already had the answer to his question. The triad leader awakened something in him that he thought was long lost, true fear. True, unrestrained fear. Fear for his life, not just mere beatings.

“Bad? Bad is an understatement. You’re doomed, in the worst possible case, write your will beforehand. He either buys you or...” Mr Jung stopped speaking, his expression turning pained. Minseok stared up at him and reached out shakingly for the man’s apron, his grip slipping before he finally found a hold on it as his life depended on it. His palms turned clammy and he felt cold sweat appearing on his nape. He knew it was futile, Mr Jung couldn’t save him. The newspaper falling into his lap, he had a feeling what it was,  “Or what?”

“Abduction?” his voice broke while he was hesitating, he reached out for the young man’s shoulder, grasping it. Something in his eyes seemed to scream regret for what he was about to say next, “Death?” He stopped, his eyes laced with fear and sadness, pity. “Minseok, I hope my gut’s wrong, I hope he just thinks you’ve got a pretty face, nothing more. I heard stories about him. Girls and boys, easy on the eyes, young of age… they disappeared, re-appeared in his social environment… he disposes of them like little children grow tired of their toys.”

“Disposing of as in… dead? Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That I’m basically a dead man walking?”

“Their deaths look like suicides, accidents…” Mr Jung stopped himself from continuing.

“I’m afraid, Mr Jung...” Minseok felt tears pricking at his eyes. As if his life wasn’t already enough torture. No-one could escape the triad’s control, except some lucky foreigners maybe who visited Shanghai voluntarily. He wasn’t as lucky, being sold by his own flesh and blood for opium, abducted and brought into a different country.

“You have all the reasons to.” Mr Jung offered him a cigarette and a glass full with strong smelling alcohol, “to soothe your nerves.”

Minseok downed the liquid in one go and grimaced at the burning aftertaste, tears welling up in his eyes. After taking a few drags from the cigarette, he remembered Wu putting something into his pocket.

 

He looked at Mr Jung while rummaging in his breast pocket until his index and middle finger came into contact with something. He didn’t pull it out just yet and he furrowed his brows. If Wu tried to get him arrested for carrying drugs, he was going to jump off a bridge. The cigarette between his lips, he asked the tailor if he wants to bet what it is. The old man just smiled a pained one while pouring himself a drink.

Minseok held a  couple of Yuan bills between his fingers, accounting to  ¥ 150, and a piece of paper. Both heads whipped around towards the store window to see if someone saw it. They almost clashed heads when they stared down on the bill.

“What the hell?” Minseok whispered incredulously.

“With how much money is the man walking around, it’s been some time since I saw a yuan like that.”

“What should I do? If the members see it...” Minseok wasn’t able to think straight, the heavens were against him and that day was nothing but a battle against windmills. Heck, his whole existence was. He couldn’t believe his life was going downhill that fast, he was just 21.

“What’s on the paper?” after Mr Jung recovered from his first shock, he picked up the piece of paper that fell to the ground, when Minseok lost the hold on it. With shaky fingers he unfolded it and his eyes went wide, he showed it to Minseok:

> _ Come to the ‘Little Club’ on Friday,  _ _  
>  _ _ 60 Bubbling Well Road, 11 p.m. Treat  
>  _ _ yourself to something nice, little pīntou _ _. _
> 
> _ \- Wu _

It was very delicate handwriting contrary to the kind of person the man was. But what made his blood run cold was the pet name. He already saw his life flashing before his eyes. His throat suddenly felt dry and he grabbed the bottle next to the tailor and refilled his glass, sipping this time. Something crawled up the surface, something long abandoned, after all the pressure, the beatings, his tiredness of everything. Something that started to surface, to come back from the depths of his miserable life. This time, his life truly depended on it.

“What are you going to do, Minseok?” Mr Jung stood at the window, scanning the street outside. Minseok felt watched, but looking outside the window he couldn’t see anyone. He walked outside, cigarette between his fingers and took a drag, “Maybe I should make a run for it?” Once he spoke the magic words, the wish clawed itself through his chest and ripped him apart, the wish to run away for real.

The tailor appeared behind him, the midday sun burning down on them. He patted his head, “I think it’s already too late for it.”

“I won’t meet up with him. And if he thinks he can buy me, he’s mistaken. Can I leave you the money, or maybe you change it at the bank? I won’t touch the money unless necessary.” Minseok felt confidence pouring into his voice, but he knew it was just a farce.

 

#  _ Scene II _

Friday came rolling around the corner faster than Minseok was aware of. Mr Jung asked the gang if it was possible to ‘transfer’ Minseok over to his shop since he’s short on hands and Minseok was surprisingly fast with a needle and was talented in giving advice, thanks to his grandfather back in Korea who was a tailor himself -- if he was still alive, Minseok couldn’t know. Tailor Jung even offered the gang money so Minseok could move in his store, or rather the apartment above that belonged to his oldest son that moved out three years prior. But Minseok would still have to check in with the gang twice a week to deliver information and probably his beatings if he couldn’t, even moving out wouldn’t save him from it. Speaking of beatings, the Thursday before the supposed meeting, it happened again, and again his face, this time they even strangled him, since  the Hung Kwan was drunk, going as far as even raping him. The Hung Kwan was one of the military commanders or leaders for the Liaison section and communicated between the headquarters and the subunits.Minseok usually had to deliver information to him and he knew why him and not one of his assistants. He just wished he were dead, but he didn’t tell Mr Jung about anything that happened besides the beating, he didn’t want the old man to worry more than he already did. 

 

Jung borrowed him one of his light coats since it was already raining all day long, the warm rain less of a problem, but rather the rain not showing any signs of stopping any time soon. Minseok was determined not to follow the invite, but he decided to observe the entrance of the ‘Little Club’, he needed to know if the man would really be there.

 

That was why he now stood under a patio on the other side of the road, keeping an eye open while playing with a cat that was hiding from the rain. When he squatted down, hissing in pain, the cat didn’t miss a single heartbeat and jumped into his lap where it was dry. Pulling out a cigarette, he lit it with a newly bought second-hand lighter. Fortunately, he didn’t have to touch the man’s money.

 

He just sat there and watched the rain dripping down from the patio and absentmindedly scratched the cat’s fur while smoking. He came here way too early and still had around half an hour left until the time of the actual meeting. The street started to clear out, some cars driving past, spluttering muddy rainwater on the pavements, but Minseok sat a good distance away from the puddles.

 

Minseok watched women wearing lavish dresses entering the club, men wearing suits he couldn’t buy even if he would have earned money since the day he was born. After some time, but earlier than expected, a car drove up to the front of the club. This car wasn’t unusual, but different at the same time. The atmosphere surrounding it; the doorman was faster with opening the car door than with other people, his bow deeper, his expression more crestfallen and Minseok knew he should get on his feet and make a run for it. He cautiously let the cat wander into his vest and he took another drag from his fifth cigarette now, while slowly standing up, the blood rushing back into his legs. The man that left the car stood still for a few seconds, looking dashing like hell in his suit, his bodyguard holding the umbrella so his boss wouldn’t get wet. Minseok was surprised the man really came, but then he remembered why he came here in the first place and as on common arrangement, the man turned around, his eyes finding Minseok’s. Minseok felt his throat constricting and he took the last drag of his cigarette, before crushing the stump under the heel of his shoe. Securing his arms under the cat in his vest, he pulled up the collar of his coat, before scurrying away. This was the worst idea he had and now he even took a stray cat with himself, what was wrong with him? He felt eyes burning into his back and he was sure he heard footsteps behind him, light and fast and he knew somehow that it wasn’t Wu, but rather his bodyguard. Cornering the next intersection, he hid pressed against a wall in an alleyway, praying the cat wouldn’t give him away.

 

Just seconds later, he heard the footsteps again, slowing down at the entrance of the alleyway and Minseok really chided himself why he even did that. His heart rate started to go through the roof again. The blood rushing through his veins pounded so loud in his ears, he was afraid the stranger would hear it, that he would find him. Was he that weary of life? The cat snuggled against his chest purred lightly, but didn’t move and that somehow calmed his nerves. The steps, again. Nearer this time and Minseok prayed with all his might that the stranger would just turn around. Clasping his hands before his mouth, he covered it, holding his breath, while the rain seemed to be warmer than the sweat rolling down his neck.

 

It felt like an eternity until the footsteps didn’t bounce off the walls anymore and Minseok waited even longer just to be sure.

 

Once he was back in his new home, the tailor was already waiting for him. He didn’t say anything and just ushered him, locking the door behind him. “What is that?”

“Sorry, I just brought it along...” Minseok’s mind was haywire.

“I guess we can keep it, that way we can get rid of mice,” the old man patted his shoulder and didn’t say anything else.


	2. Act II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: violence, non-con (not sexual), mentions of rape
> 
> Direct cursive speech indicates the sentences spoken in Chinese and Minseok and Yi Fan switch between Korean and Chinese a lot since both are more or less fluent.
> 
> pīntou - lover, mistress, paramour  
> Xuè Lóng - Blood Dragons

#  _ Scene I _

The tailor didn’t object any further that he would feed a cat now and Minseok was more than thankful for that. He named the cat together with Mr Jung ‘Tan’ and the young cat was running around the shop all day long or just sat idly by when Minseok was doing his work as a shoeshiner. Sometimes he thought that Tan behaved more like a dog than a cat. He wanted to forget about that Friday, but it was relentlessly lingering in the back of his mind, and he just did his job polishing shoes and sharing information with the gang. They didn’t punish him since then, but the Hung Kwan threw him weird looks and it made him feel even more uncomfortable than usual. 

 

Minseok was wary of his steps the next few days after that encounter, always looking behind him, feeling watched with every step he took. Seeing no sign of anyone who was foreign to him, he started to slowly calm down, but the eyes haunted him in his dreams, enhancing his insomnia. The added lack of sleep made him hyper-nervous, he was always agitated. Sometimes he couldn’t even digest food properly. The stress was too much for him. He lost focus during work, pricking his hands ever so often with needles. Except for the polishing of shoes that happened on autopilot and it was the only thing that kept him somewhat sane, a form of mediation. Tan was never straying from him.

 

It was exactly a week after the meeting or whatever it was supposed to be and the bruises started to fade each day a bit more, but the pressuring feeling never left his chest. His only relieve being his cat and his work.

His arm bolstered up on his patella, he rested his chin on his open palm and his eyes followed Tan who was playing around with a little sack he threw her earlier to entertain her. It was a lazy day that day, the sky cloudy, but still warm. It was still way too warm for a late summer’s day and the city was unusually deserted around this time. It didn’t help Minseok since his thoughts started whirling around again, he didn’t sleep the night and his fingers were adorned with plasters like rich men and women wear rings. He couldn’t even hold a needle properly. Suddenly, a cough was heard in front of him and he whipped around, his hands automatically reaching for his rag to clean the shoes. The customer sat with his legs crossed, the English trousers perfectly complimenting the long and slim legs. Minseok dropped everything he had in his grasp when he looked at the brownish-red leather shoes. He immediately started to shiver. His nightmare just came back to haunt him and rob him of his last bit of sanity he had.

“Minseok...” the voice was menacing, “ _You disappoint me._ ”

Minseok was so out of it he didn’t realise the man was talking Chinese since his name rolled off in correct Korean pronunciation when he directed his eyes towards the speaker, his face screaming fear, and he shook his head in denial. Minseok’s eyes were bloodshot and the eyebags prominent as a streetlight at night. His face was crestfallen and had an unhealthy greenish glow, the skin seemed to stretch over his bone structure, the fading bruises all over his body and throat ironically underlining his unhealthy colour in yellow-blue-greenish shades. He wasn’t a sight to behold and he knew it, he saw the twitch of disgust around Wu’s corner of the mouth.

 

_“So, you do understand me, am I correct in my assumption?”_

Minseok wanted to lie, but he couldn’t, he just slowly nodded his head, he was unable to tear his gaze away from Wu. He was wearing leather driving gloves, the first thing he saw. He wore no jacket, but it was once again draped over the seat next to him, the sleeves of his shirt once again rolled up and the first few buttons were undone, unlike the buttons of his four button vest which were tightly secured in their respective holes. Golden, again, a colour Minseok started to dislike with the greatest fear, it was the colour of the rich, the ones who used people like him, who didn’t care a dime about the poor. His eyes widened when he saw the gun holster secured around his chest and his whole body shook backwards, but then came the disgust after the initial reaction. He didn’t know the kind of weapon, but it was completely silver, except for the grip, which was a mix of nacre and gold.

_“You didn’t buy anything with the money I gave you, that’s disappointing as well,”_ Wu’s face turned into a smirk, raising his eyebrows, _“And you didn’t come to our meeting, well, you did, but you vanished after that.”_ Minseok registered a hiss to his right side before Tan jumped on his lap and snarled at the Shan Chu, the leader of the triad.

_“That’s correct,”_ Minseok obliged himself to talk with a shaking voice, but the words wouldn’t roll off his tongue and came out just as a dry whimper. His hands automatically reached for Tan’s fur and he ran both hands in a weird rhythm over her back, but Tan didn’t seem to mind, too focused on the intruder.

_ “What was that? I didn’t hear you,  _ little pīntou. _”_ There it was again, the name that made his toes curl as a shiver ran down his spine. 

 

Minseok couldn’t speak, he just couldn’t. The fear was too strong and the urge to please, to submit, to not anger the man any more even greater, and subconsciously, forced into him. He finally tore his gaze away and redirected it towards the man’s shoes, tears prickling at his eyes and his deathwish just occurred again. There were specks of a dried liquid on it and the way the liquid was strewn across the shoe… it was blood. Without a word, he started cleaning the shoes meticulously with shaking hands, just enough water to remove the dried blood on them, checking for potential discolourations. Picking out the only clear polish paste he had, he undid one of the shoes and tested out the polish at a hidden part of the leather. After letting it set and polishing it again, he slowly rubbed the shoe creme into the material, letting it settle in before polishing it off with a soft rag. Once he was ready, he felt a hand on his chin, pulling it skywards. It did smell like leather, but when his hand shot up to remove it, he felt no leather, just skin on skin.

His eyes flitted back over the man’s attire. It was too dark to wear during summer, the black standing in stark contrast to the man’s skin, the dress shirt a dark burgundy. And the buttons were still golden. Minseok just wished they would have been a product of his imagination, but it was the reality. One had blood on it and Minseok knew why the man wore such a thick material at this time of the year. He clearly wasn’t thinking about his actions, when he stood up and walked up closer to the man. After he wetted the tip of his thumb, he reached slowly and cautiously out for him until his hand settled on the button. He slowly rubbed the dried blood off of it. 

He felt large hands settle on his ass, pulling him even closer, groping it. Hot breath was falling on the crook right above his collar bone that laid exposed by the unbuttoned grey shirt he was wearing, and he didn’t know how to feel about it. He could feel his body about to react to the man who was undeniably handsome, but his experience taught him better. He was drawn closer, standing between his legs, and stared down on his hands resting on the man’s chest and withdrew them abruptly when he realised how dirty they were. He pushed back, but the man didn’t let him go and pulled him back to himself. Minseok shook his hand and bowed low, his hands resting once again against the chest. Wu didn’t seem to care.

“You can apologise by going out with me, Minseok,” Wu commented, making Minseok face him, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. He shook his head. But the way his name was called made him want to submit to the man, even though everything in him was screaming against it and yet he didn’t comply. Minseok forcefully closed his eyes shut and Wu let his hands inspect the body under the tips of his fingers when he pulled Minseok into his chest. The smaller instinctively froze and didn’t move a muscle. Wu’s fingers lingered on the skin of his nape and travelled further over the neck and the throat before a hand settled around one side of his throat. His eyes shot open. Hot breath fell on his lips, “They’re strangling you?” Minseok wasn’t sure how to interpret the connotation, but having Wu just a mere centimetre away from his face, his pulse was quickening and he felt the blood rushing through his veins. Wu let his thumb experimentally press against Minseok’s Adam’s apple and the younger’s breath hitched and his eyes went even wider. He was unfocused, tears accumulating in his eyes. Just like last time, everything was a blur to him.

 

He felt something soft against his lips, it wasn’t a kiss per se, but Wu’s lips nonetheless, “Don’t be afraid, I won’t do such things to you _, not yet._ ” He pressed his lips to Minseok’s who was a second too late before pushing the other man away. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and stared at the other incredulously. What was the man thinking? 

“ _I’m not a bitch!_ ” Minseok hissed out in Chinese when he finally found his damned voice again, the first angry tears started to break the barrier. His eyes flitted to the street, his only escape route, but he knew he was too weak to get far.

Wu just folded his hands in his lap and let his tongue run across his lips as if he tasted Minseok, when he leant back, his expression unreadable, but a smirk was definitely there. “ _Don’t even think about running away, this time my bodyguard will get you. And you do have a lovely voice for a bitch, but you won’t be anyone’s bitch, but mine.”_ He suddenly stood up and Minseok instinctively ducked away and stumbled backwards. Wu closed in on him and Minseok was pressed against the brick-wall behind him, Wu slammed his hand next to his head against the wall and leant dangerously close, “You won’t get away from me and if any of them touches what is mine again, I’m coming for them,  _ little pīntou _ .” Wu’s deep voice was vibrating in his ears, the sickening care that forced himself on it, the possessiveness in the voice making his stomach turn, menacing wasn’t enough of a word to describe what Minseok gathered from the connotation of the man’s words, it was something darker.  Minseok’s started to break out into a cold sweat, the shirt already glued to his back, and his breath fell short, his chest rising and falling rapidly. A hand cupped his jaw, as gently as last time, and the man loomed over him again, pressing his lips against his and moulding them against each other. Minseok didn’t kiss back at first, his hands curling into the other man’s shirt, but he couldn’t find the strength to fight back and submitted in the end. His body reacted to sheer and dangerous dominance on autopilot with submission – it was self-protection. The man was rough and demanding, bruising Minseok’s lips. He inclined his head to soften the impact, but he was pressed further against the wall, Wu pressing one of his legs between his thighs and his hand ran across his upper body. The taller man bit harshly on his lower lip, eliciting from Minseok a pained moan from deep down and he felt him humming in appreciation before he slid his tongue back in between the lips and let his hand wander towards his ass. Minseok felt how he was getting weaker and weaker by the second, his legs ready to give out under him. He weakly hit Wu’s chest to make him stop, feeling the end of his consciousness closing in, and it was an eternity until the man let go of him. Minseok just stared up at him, shivering, he tried to talk, to reach out for the man, but he couldn’t even see him properly and his body wouldn’t obey and suddenly everything turned black.

 

#  _ Scene II _

He felt something wet and cold on his forehead and some inaudible mumbles, his body felt so unbelievably heavy and he couldn’t open his eyes. A dry whimper escaped his lips and the mumbles stopped.

“Minseok!” He identified the voice as Mr Jung’s. “Son, are you awake?” Another whimper in response, his vocal cords still refusing to cooperate. He felt warmth spreading from a hand cupping his cheek. Prying his eyes open, he was met with the sight of the tailor, the glasses perched high on his nose, worry radiating from his eyes. A chair scratched over the floorboard and behind the tailor appeared Wu; Minseok choked on air while inhaling and his whole body flinched.

“Thank god, for a second there I was afraid you dropped dead,” he sounded concerned, but his face was void of emotion. Minseok turned into a ball and hid his face, his body was hurting so much.

“Minseok,” it was the tailor again, “When was the last time you ate something? And your body...”

“Are they using you as a punching bag?” Wu interrupted.

“They do,” answered Mr Jung, his voice above a mere whisper, when he ran his hands through Minseok’s hair who was shaking softly, “And we can’t do anything against it...”

Minseok felt his eyelids getting heavy again and his consciousness fading in and out before he fell into darkness again.

 

When he opened his eyes, it was dark outside. His throat was dry and his body still ached. Trying to pull himself up, he looked around and found a glass and a carafe with water. He tried to reach out, but his hands just fell back into his lap and new tears spilt over his eyelids, when he hung his head low, his body shaking from the sobs.

“ _You should have said something,_ ” a soft and foreign Chinese voice sounded from the darkness and his head shot up. Squinting, he tried to see the person, but couldn’t until a young looking man appeared in his sight, illuminated by the flickering light of a candle. He approached the bed slowly, not to startle the boy. Sitting down at his bedside, he filled the glass with water and handed it to Minseok, keeping his hold on the glass when Minseok raised the glass to his chapped lips and hastily downed the liquid. “ _Name’s Lu Han, but you can call me ‘_ _ ge’ _ _._ ” The man continued, wringing a wet cloth out before patting Minseok’s skin with it, “ _You’ve been out for a few hours, Mr Wu assigned me to keep a close watch on you. I’m his bodyguard, the one you escaped last week—_ ” A meow disrupted his monologue. Han looked around and Minseok mumbled his cat’s name. “ _Should I let her in?_ ” Minseok nodded and laid back down. Once the door was open, Tan ran to the bed and jumped on it, petting her nose against Minseok’s cheek before cautiously climbing on him and curling into a ball on his chest. He raised his arm to pet her, enjoying the familiarity of her fur under the tips of his fingers.

 

Minseok looked back at the other man who was watching him curiously, “ _Well, what I wanted to say, I was pretty surprised you escaped me_.”

“ _You were almost right beside me when you tried to catch me or whatever you were supposed to do,_ ” Minseok let out a dry chuckle and Tan nudges his palm when he stopped brushing her fur.

“ _So you were in that alleyway?_ ” the Chinese laughed softly. “ _But you won’t get away from me for the next few days while I’m keeping an eye on you. You collapsed from malnutrition and I’m pretty sure Mr Wu slipped the owner money to nurse you back to health, after the doctor left._ ”

Minseok fell silent and took another sip from the water, he just made Mr Jung’s life harder than it already was. He stared at his companion, “ _Do you have any idea what you are doing to him with forcing your money on Mr Jung? Accepting money from a rival gang? He could be dead by tomorrow morning, if they knew about it, together with this whole place burned down_ ,” his voice turned even more raspy and hoarse by each syllable he formed.

“ _Had no idea you speak Chinese that well..._ ”

“You’re just making our life already harder than it is, I hope they at least did it under the cover of a commission,” he switched back to Korean.

 

But Lu Han stayed true to his words and kept an eye on Minseok, following him the same way Tan did. At least he stopped wearing complete suits, running around most of the times in regular pants and a simple shirt and suspenders. It made him more approachable in Minseok’s eyes. It was somewhat endearing, but he kept in mind what kind of person his companion was. Minseok didn’t talk a lot, except with Mr Jung. He kept his answers usually monosyllabic when Han asked him something. He wasn’t sure, but Han seemed way too interested in him whenever he worked on the sewing machine. The men didn’t let him out since the rain already began to fall, so he couldn’t polish shoes. It made him nervous that he stared at his hands without uttering a single word.

 

Minseok was still weak on his own two feet and spent most of the time still in bed, Mr Jung or Han by his side. The day where he should report to the gang crawled closer and the more it approached the more anxious Minseok got. He had nothing to report, he didn’t make money…

 

He was a little feverish and Han cleaned his face with a wet rag when he coaxed him back into bed; Minseok was restless. They conversed in quiet voices with Tan on Lu Han’s lap. Lu Han’s soothing voice made Minseok tired by the minute and his eyelids started to get heavier, his answers turning shorter until they were just above a mere whisper.

 

“ _Where is that bitch?_ ” Minseok shot up from his bedding, the sound of the voice dangerous and familiar. It was dark outside. He was suddenly wide awake and his breathing started to fall short. Clutching his cover, he stared at the door, the angry steps getting closer when they stomped up the stairs. Tan was in less than a second on his bed and humped its back, snarling towards the door. Lu Han wasn’t in the room. The next moment the door was ripped open.

 

“ _Where were you, bitch, you were supposed to report back yesterday evening!_ ” The Hung Kwan stood fuming in the door, a leather belt loosely in his hand before he snapped, his underlings right behind him, dark glares flooding their expressions. Minseok paled in an instant and clutched Tan to his chest. His chest rose with heavy breathing, borderline hyperventilating and cold sweat pearled down his neck and temple. The Hung Kwan took big strides across the room, swinging the belt over his head, and Minseok curled into a ball just in time, ready to save Tan by shielding her, presenting his back covered by a simple wife beater. Closing his eyes and baring his teeth, he waited. He screamed out when the belt crashed down on his back, the pain unbearable for his already weak body. He saw white stars before eyes and his throat constricted, when the belt crashed down a second time. Minseok didn’t know where he was hit, because his body’s pain just increased by the second. He wailed loudly after he pushed Tan away, he was screaming in pain and the tears burned in his eyes. His hazy mind waited for another strike, but nothing happened and Minseok’s world turned black.

 

“ _Who are you?_ ” the Hung Kwan hissed, arms raised above his head, when Minseok passed out cold, ready to swing the belt down again. Behind him stood a tall man, knife pressed against his throat drawing blood. He covered the Hung Kwan’s eyes and pressed his head into his shoulder. The Hung Kwan’s men were knocked out cold before they could register what happened. Over them stood another man, fury radiating in his eyes.

“ _You hurt what’s mine. You touched and raped what’s mine. I’ll make you regret everything you’ve done and I’ll take what’s most precious to you. Your wife has two beautiful daughters, one more beautiful than the other, five and eight of age, am I right? They’re doing good in school I heard, and your oldest has a beautiful singing voice, what a shame if someone would rob her of her voice, don’t you think?_ ” His voice was laced with insane amusement, while he was slowly dragging the ripped blade of the knife over the thin skin right beneath the man’s Adam’s apple.

“ _Who are you?_ ” the Hung Kwan gritted out again, fear evident in the shaking of his body, the low voice whispering into his ears making his blood run cold and he feared for his life and his family’s.

“ _Your wife will pick up your girls in a hour, you’re supposed to travel to the countryside today for a few days. Wouldn’t it be a shame if their father was suddenly found dead in a ditch, with the words ‘si_ _fat gwai’ etched into his skin. The Hung Kwan of the Xuè Lóng, a faggot. What a shame that would bring upon your family. They would sell your woman to a brothel and just imagine what they would do to your childr—_ ”

“ _Stop!”_ The Hung Kwan screamed out, the fear immobilising him, tears running down his face. “I’ll do whatever you want, just don’t hurt my family!”

“ _If you ever come near the boy again, I swear— It’s up to him if he still wants to rely information to your group, but I’ll lock him up, if I need to, because he’s mine and I won’t let him do that. He’s mine and no one else’s. But if you ever cross paths with him or the tailor again, just standing in the same street as this shop, I’ll hunt you down and slit your children open before your very eyes._ ” A blow was delivered to his head and the Hung Kwan blacked out. 

 

He and his men were dropped before the Xuè Lóng doors, his henchmen dead and him beaten to a pulp, but still breathing.


	3. Act III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: non-sexual power play, maybe just very slightly
> 
> Direct cursive speech indicates the sentences spoken in Chinese and Minseok and Yi Fan switch between Korean and Chinese a lot since both are more or less fluent.
> 
> pīntou - lover, mistress, paramour  
> Xuè Lóng - Blood Dragons

#  _Scene I_

Minseok whimpered when he tried to move, his back felt like it was on fire. He couldn’t move all that well and he felt tears prickling at his eyes. That’s when he realised he couldn’t see or even open his eyes. Sobs broke over his lips and he didn’t know if this was the afterlife or if he was still living.

Someone hushed soothingly and brushed his hair, calming him down, but he just sobbed harder. Suddenly, he was pulled up cautiously, and he recognised the familiar stretching of bandages around his upper body. Something or someone pulled his head against a warm surface, combing his hair with fingers while the other pulled him closer. He tried to calm down to get an idea of what was happening. He leaned against a human, male judging by the physique, and he sat in someone’s lap. The smell was comforting to him, but his body was on high alert. He stopped struggling and the last hiccups left his throat.

 

“All better now, _little pīntou?_ ” someone asked in Korean. Minseok froze, hot breathing fanning from above over his face, something brushing past his lips. “You’re safe now—”

“Stop,” his own voice, raspy and hoarse, unfamiliar to his ears. He couldn’t believe it, that couldn’t be true. Why was he with the man? He brought his hands up to his face hiding himself in a dire attempt to make himself invisible. But feeling a cloth covering his eyes, he finally understood why he couldn’t see.

“I won’t,” The voice was soft, yet demanding, unyielding, “Not until you submit yourself to me.”

Minseok hesitated, weighing his options before he responded with a ‘no’. He was rewarded with a chuckle, “I wasn’t asking for your approval, you have no say in the matter.” He tilted Minseok’s face upwards, the breath now directly fanning over his chapped lips. Even behind the bandage around his eyes, he imagined the Shan Chu looking at him with those cold eyes that saw through him like he was glass, that seemed to know what he was thinking before he knew it himself. Wu spoke against his lips, after he pulled his hands away from his face, each touch of his lips sending vibrations through his body. “I don’t want to imagine what he would have done to you if I wasn’t there. We heard your screams of agony when we entered the shop, the owner unconscious on the ground. Something clicked in me when I heard your screams.”

“Is he dead?” Minseok interrupted him, but in the back of his mind he knew Wu wasn’t someone who liked to be interrupted. He did it anyway.

“No. I mean, I would have, but I sent him away with a warning, you don’t need to be afraid of him anymore.” The voice was more menacing. With blindfolded eyes, Minseok had no control over anything. “And don’t you dare interrupt me again, except if you want to be punished.” A strong hand glided over the skin on his thigh, grabbing it harshly. The rings around the fingers dug into his flesh, Minseok hissed in pain and that was the moment he realised that he only wore his briefs. He shuddered.

“Just kill me already,” Minseok whispered against the lips of the man, his voice drained of every colour. His hands, previously in his lap, came upwards and Minseok blindly felt around until his palm came into contact with Wu’s upper arm. He let his hand follow the trail down to the man’s hand that was slowly running up and down his thigh. He had his sleeves rolled up and Minseok, for the first time, consciously touched the man’s skin under his fingertips. He moved it backwards, over the shoulder, down the chest. Wu had his woollen dress-shirt unbuttoned and Minseok wasn’t sure, but the bit of chest his fingers came into contact with felt toned and rough from scars. Minseok was daring, having lost all hope already. He wanted to try something, confirm something, break free from the submission for once. Wu wasn’t interrupting him, it was either to encourage him or lull him into a false sense of security to screw him over later, he reasoned. Breathing with a wavering airflow, Minseok pushed his hand flat against the surface of the chest without strength, he moved his hands upwards the chest, gliding over the collarbone, before his hand came to rest on the man’s nape, and he buried his fingers into the unstyled hair, _“But I still won’t go out with you, Shan Chu.”_ He still felt daring, finally, after years, someone let him follow his own wishes, even for just a little bit and maybe even enjoy his sexuality. He overcame the distance between their touching lips, the breath ghosting over his skin and he connected them. Minseok couldn’t see, but when the man kissed back in an instant, his large hand coming up to his jaw, further into the hair and pulling him closer to him, taking the lead, he had the confirmation he needed. The man wasn’t hesitating a second confronted with a kiss by another male. Minseok wasn’t sure if he should be happy or fear for his life.

 

It was a bruising kiss, it wasn’t enjoyable. Minseok’s chapped lips were burning, Wu having drawn blood from them. He submitted himself completely to the other man, not fighting against it, letting himself be manhandled. But the sensations were different, he felt everything more strongly, robbed of his eyesight temporarily, he felt an ounce of care in the kiss. Wu bit on his lower lip and pulled it between his teeth, getting Minseok to gasp, before brutally assaulting his cavern with his tongue, curling his tongue around Minseok’s, moulding their lips against each other. He sucked harshly on his lower lip and pain shot through Minseok, a tingling sensation of burning running through him as he let out a whimper. When Wu pulled back, he breathed heavily. Minseok chased unconsciously after his lips before Minseok came back to his senses and pulled himself back, deeper into the hand grabbing his hair. A sinister chuckle ghosted over his lips, the hand previously on his thigh came up to his throat, closing in on it, “You want me to kill you?”

“Yes,” Minseok prayed to the heavens his voice would sound firm, but once the syllables left his mouth, they wavered, slanted, shook. Minseok wanted to slap himself and jump down a bridge.

“What will you do to make me kill you?” The man was playing with him, Minseok was desperate.

“I’ll interrupt you, mock you, disobey you, sell you out.”

The grip turned stronger, adding pressure to slowly disrupt the airflow. The breath wandered to his ear, after his head was tilted away. He seemed to be testing Minseok’s limits, enjoying his position to be a slave to Wu’s actions, his sick games.  
“Dare me, little one _,_ ” the Shan Chu whispered in a nauseating tone, light and playful, yet stomach-turning. Yi Fan left a kiss behind Minseok’s ear and trailed down to his neck, where his hand was strangling him just to make way for his lips. The boy inhaled deeply, a slight cough surfacing after his throat was released. He was thrilled that the young man was so hopeless, giving his body to him, begging him to kill him already, so desperate to make empty threats just so Yi Fan would end him. The hand on Minseok’s throat wandered down to his chest and went back down to his thigh, massaging the tender skin. Minseok tipped his head back, a sigh escaping his quivering lips, his body sacking in defeat. Yi Fan’s hand in his hair loosened its hold and wandered down his spine, a hiss escaping Minseok’s lips when the fingers came in touch with the wounds under the bandages. Settling his hands on Minseok’s hips, he pushed the younger down off his lap.

 

Minseok felt himself coming to rest on a mattress and it sent waves of fear through him, especially when he was pushed back on it by the shoulder and Wu pressed him deeper into it. His breath hitched in his throat and he stopped breathing, his mouth hanging open, his heart rate started accelerating. His hands shot up, pushing against Wu’s chest with every ounce of strength he could muster. It wasn’t enough and the man pressed more into him. He was sent straight into panic mode and wanted to scream, but his ragged breath stopped him from it. The words he wanted to utter refused to leave his tongue and behind the bandage accumulated new tears. Wu straddled his lap and Minseok’s thoughts went haywire, he started sobbing with increasing volume and he clasped automatically his hands over his mouth and tried turning away from Wu, trying his hardest not to thrash. Curling himself into a ball, as far as the man let him, he felt the wounds ripping slowly open, the pain surging through his back and he released a sound of pain through his gritted teeth and his body shook under the sobs. He should have known the man wasn’t any better than the others, his ounces of care just a farce. 

 

Seeing Minseok so pained and suffering under him made something switch in Yi Fan, fueling dark desires and sickening care in him. Minseok’s reactions spoke volumes about how he was treated before, how it made him submit, even if it could have been rape. Even in his current state, he saw the sick submission oozing from the boy, how he was willingly giving his body. His will to live had probably died long before he first caught Yi Fan’s attention.

Yi Fan wanted to bath more in Minseok’s reactions, taste them more, but deep down he didn’t want to take everything from him at once. Minseok was already a wreck and he didn’t plan to wreck him irreversibly to a point he wouldn’t even be able to show emotions anymore. He wanted to keep him, to be entertained by the sometimes contrary reactions he had shown. He was different, the ghoul-like emptiness and the sudden spurs of fire in his eyes. He definitely was entertaining on more than one level compared to the past playthings. He regained his composure back, realising what it was something about the boy that made him so intrigued in the first place. He saw something of his old self in the shoeshiner with the dead eyes and the tired smile. Minseok’s lips were trembling, “Please, don’t– Don’t, I–, I'm sor–” He shut up immediately once words of protest escaped his lips and his body went tense before it went slack again. He forced himself to be as relaxed as possible to forestall possible heavy injuries and he breathed flat.

 

“Minseok,” Wu’s hand came down to his cheek, the voice still menacing despite the words spoken, he sounded angry, “I’ll let go of you, if you promise not to thrash around.” He managed a nod and he felt the restrictions go. “Minseok, I won’t rape you like the others did, I swear. Do you believe me?”

He shook his head, “‘ _Did_ ’? I don’t see _anything_ being different from before,” he gritted out, his voice shaking with rage and fear and he almost swallowed his words. He didn’t believe anyone at this point; especially someone calling him ‘his’. 

“Because I don’t plan on letting them touch you anymore.” There was a finality in the words. Minseok felt the man leaning closer, a hand being dropped to his naked chest, and the tips of the fingers wandering from there over his Adam’s apple, gliding further over the side of his face to his lower lip, lingering there, the thumb gently resting on his lower lip, pulling it slightly down, while the index finger curled under his chin. The Shan Chu pulled his hand back but not before brushing his knuckles past his cheek, making Minseok flinch and turn his head away. A dry chuckle reached his ears and he felt Wu lifting himself off him and the mattress dipped down next to him, before it bounced back up and he heard the man stand up, _“You should enjoy yourself as well, not only pleasure me...”_

 

Seconds later he heard the door being opened and falling into lock again. He wasn’t sure if he heard Wu’s mumbles correctly, for he only caught bits and pieces of what the Shan Chu mumbled to himself. Left alone, he finally started to cry and just wished to be dead.

 

#  _Scene II_

Minseok was delirious when a knock sounded from the door. He pulled the blanket over his head, trying to be invisible. The door opened and someone stepped in.

 _“Min Shuo, it’s me, ge.”_ Lu Han. The mattress dipped down next to him. _“I’m here with our doctor. The infection around your eyes should have subsided and we need to clean the wounds on your back. Shan Chu told me they might have ripped open.”_ Upon referring to the man, Minseok rolled away, curling himself into a ball, a tremor assaulted his body and he wrapped his arms tightly around his body.

 

 _“Mr Jin, I need to disinfect and clean your wounds,”_ an unfamiliar voice spoke up, authoritative and caring, unmistakenly a doctor. He uncurled himself and looked in the general direction of the voices, being called his Chinese name, Jin Min Shuo, he was unaccustomed to it since he was usually called various forms of bitch by other people than Mr Jung.

After a bath and a fresh set of underwear, Lu Han guided Minseok back into the bedroom and pulled him down. _“Min Shuo, you won’t like it, but I’ll pull you on my lap, that way I can constrict your movements more easily when it hurts.”_ Minseok nodded and felt himself being manhandled and didn’t relax until he got a whiff of Lu Han’s aftershave. He felt stiff in the embrace and on a man’s lap and he hated himself for being so submissive, remembering vividly how he was treated earlier by Wu. But he started to relax in Lu Han’s embrace who carded his fingers through his hair, _“Min Shuo, we’re going to remove the bandage around your eyes now._ ” They spoke to him like he was a little child, but maybe he was. He wouldn’t know.

 

Once the restriction around his eyes was removed, he squinted against the sunlight until his eyes stopped watering and his vision came back. He was met with the sight of a concerned looking older man. _“The swelling around your eyes went back and the same goes for the infection, Mr Jin, but I still need to put ointment on, please hold still.”_ Minseok wasn’t afraid as of now, but he still hesitantly grabbed Lu Han’s arm around him for support, seeing that it really was him. _“It’s alright, Min Shuo, ge is here,”_ Lu Han reassured him. “ _Ge,_ ” Minseok leaned closer into Lu Han, the only person he would trust at least a bit and in this unfamiliar setting, his only hope.

The back was more painful, but Minseok endured the pain silently, his face hidden in the crook of Lu Han’s neck, inhaling his scent and calming down in the arms of Lu Han while the latter was carding his fingers through his hair, reassuring him with little praises that he was doing good, while the doctor cleaned the wounds and bandaged them again. Minseok didn’t realise that the Shan Chu entered the scene at some point. Once the doctor finished, he rummaged in his bag, taking out the ointments for his back and eyes and instructed someone out of his line of vision on how to care for the wounded. Minseok processed that the doctor wasn’t talking to Lu Han and his head whipped around. Two dark orbs stared back into his and he stiffened automatically in Lu Han’s embrace who was quick to calm him down, while the man spoke with the doctor. After the old man left, Wu still stood by the door, staring Minseok down. When he stepped closer, Minseok turned his body more into Lu Han.

_“Han, leave us alone.”_

_“Yes, Shan Chu.”_ Minseok reached for him, when he made attempts to stand up, after pushing his limbs off his legs from where he was sitting. Minseok was already in a deep ‘flight’-mode the moment he laid eyes upon Wu. _“I’m sorry, Min Shuo, I’ll come back later.”_

 

Once Lu Han left the room, an uncomfortable silence filled the room, making Minseok extremely fidgety. Looking down in his lap, he stared at his fingers and froze when the man moved closer. Slender fingers reached for his chin and lifted his face to meet the man’s gaze whose eyes softened when he inspected Minseok close up, “Your eye looks better, the stress and everything made your eye all weird, I’m glad to see it's healing. I guess you have some questions, if you didn’t already ask Lu Han.” Minseok shook his head and Wu crouched down before the younger, his hands on Minseok’s calves, letting his fingers run over the skin, sending a tingling sensation up to Minseok’s spine he wished to dislike but couldn’t. Minseok’s head was spinning from the sudden change of demeanour he was shown right then.

 

Minseok hesitated until he remembered a piece of crucial information he was told earlier by Wu, “Mr Jung? You, you told me you found him unconscious?” It was difficult talking to him, the fear and uncertainty too prominent.

“He’s doing good, his face is still bruised, but he’s already back to work. He openly voiced that he is against you being with me, but I couldn’t care less.” Wu sounded nonchalant, but there was something in his eyes that seemed to be the opposite.

“How long have I been out?”

“Three days.”

And again, Minseok hesitated, remembering what had happened to him, why he was here in the first place, “The _Hung Kwan_? The _Xuè Lóng_?”

A sinister smile rose on Wu’s lips and Minseok’s blood ran cold, “He’s missing a couple of fingers and an ear and two of his henchmen. He had to pay with his body for what he did to what’s mine.” Wu threaded his hand through Minseok’s hair, combing softly a few strands while emphasising ‘mine’. Minseok unconsciously leaned into the touch, still feeling weak.

Minseok’s eyes shot upwards and he stared wide-eyed directly at the man. He looked tired and Minseok felt his eyelid twitching. Wu had blood on his face, but his dark burgundy suit seemed to be untouched and it smelled freshly laundered. He changed before he came in, the hair still slightly damp and just brushed back. Minseok’s ability to think straight and calculate the outcomes of his actions marooned him when he wet the tip of his thumb and reached out for Wu’s earlobe and the golden earring where some dried blood was left. He cautiously rubbed it off before cleaning his finger in the wet towel that was still beside him from cleaning the wounds. Wu reached out for his nape and pulled him down into the junction of his shoulder and neck, whispering into his ear: “Thank you.”

His voice was laced with danger and Minseok shuddered under him, feeling unsafe and lost, he wanted to go back to Mr Jung, “I don’t want your gratitude. Just kill me already.”

“I won’t kill you, Minseok _._ Why do you think I gave you that endearment? You have nowhere to run and if— I don’t think the tailor would be happy if his shop burned down.”

Minseok inhaled the man’s scent slowly, before exhaling, “Are you threatening me?”

“It’s just an insurance to bind you on me.”

“You’re a demon,” he whispered against the man’s skin, when he turned his face to him. The man dragged his finger over Minseok’s neck from one side to another before pulling his face up to leave a chaste kiss on his lips before pulling away, leaving Minseok flustered and confused. Wu pulled him up and supported Minseok on his wobbly legs. He didn’t want to, but he had to reach for the man’s arms to uphold his position, and Wu clearly enjoying it.

 

A knock sounded on the door, Wu invited the person in, “Minseok, I gave the tailor the commission for a tailor-made suit—for you.” A slender man came in, with tired but vigilant eyes, a bit taller than Minseok, but much older. He whispered something into the Shan Chu’s ear who stood behind the younger and left without a look at Minseok, after hanging the three-piece suit in front of him, next to the mirror.

 

“I wanted something more elaborate, but he was vehement against it.”

Brought in were a simple white collared shirt, a pair of shoes and black socks. It was a dark green herringbone tweed suit with yellowish-orange thread in windowpane style, the six-button double-breasted blazer had two side pockets and a peak lapel. The dark grey pants were single pleated and in a slim fit, plus a matching tie. The waistcoat mirrored the blazer, but it also had an addition that already let Minseok’s blood run cold when he first laid eyes on the vest. Instead of black buttons, they were exchanged with gold ones. “No, not gold.” Minseok stumbled a step back, raising his hands in front of him, he shook his head a couple of times. He repeated ‘no’ like a prayer until he stumbled finally into Wu behind him whose hand snuck around his front and secured his chin between his fingers.

“Dress!” Minseok wanted to disobey, but the grip on his jaw turned stronger in a warning and he mumbled out a quick ‘yes’, his mind and body going back into submission, the tiny bit of dare and resistance blighted, but he was still left confused with Wu’s contrary actions at times. 

 

It was pretty clear that Mr Jung was aware of his measurements since the suit was a perfect fit. He was uncomfortable dressing under Wu’s watchful eyes who looked like he would gladly undress him already. Minseok was trembling so hard he couldn’t button his vest, neither could he make the tie knot. His hands were shaking and he felt tears prickling in his eyes, afraid of serious punishment for disobeying and, in the worst case, for showing weakness by crying. He bit down on his lower lip and tried to calm down, but he couldn’t. He heard Wu starting to move and halted in his movements, closing his eyes shut, afraid it was time. Contrary to his expectations, he stepped up behind him, closely pressed to his back and covered Minseok’s hands with his, “Let go,” he whispered and Minseok’s hands fell down like dead weight and he slowly opened his eyes. The Shan Chu was tying the knot, his fingers brushing over the exposed skin, leaving a burning trail on his skin, before reaching further down and buttoning the vest. Crossing his arms over Minseok’s chest, his thumbs wiped the tears under his eyes away, before being retracted again. He reached for something outside Minseok’s vision and in the next second Wu held something resembling a thin golden circlet in his hands. He unclasped one side and the circlet unfolded in the middle, a little ring dangling from left to right. Minseok stared incredulously at it and slowly he realised what the circlet really was. Before he could utter a sound, Wu’s hands were holding the circlet—the collar—to his throat and Minseok saw the dark and nasty glare he received, same as the bared teeth that reminded him of the wild animals he saw in circuses, before the collar clasped shut. The collar was tight, but he could breath without difficulty, “Why?”

“I told you, you’re mine.” The words turned more and more into a death threat in Minseok’s ears with each time he was warned with them. Wu let his finger glide possessively over the collar and Minseok’s neckline, before letting it vanish beneath the shirt’s collar, settling it under the tie and pulling it tight, the weight finally letting Minseok realising he was doomed for real.

“You’ll have your freedom _little pīntou,_ but you’ll come back to me without me lifting a finger. You’re mine, Minseok, mine alone.” He turned Minseok’s face upwards who hadn’t uttered a single word for a couple of minutes, while Wu stared him down. He pressed his lips to Minseok’s, forcing entry with his tongue and Minseok’s body, in his hazy mind, reciprocated the action, giving himself to the Shan Chu, while his head was screaming bloody murder to not submit. Minseok felt tears rolling down his face.


End file.
